


Therapy

by startwithsparks



Series: MMOM 2013 [7]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation, Orgasm Delay/Denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-13
Updated: 2013-05-13
Packaged: 2017-12-11 18:15:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/801666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startwithsparks/pseuds/startwithsparks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal is no stranger to unconventional therapy techniques; Will is not too sure about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Therapy

"Don't focus on your lack of control," Hannibal said softly, pushing a chair next to the sofa, making sure it was close enough while still giving him room to move freely. "Focus on the things that still remain within your control."

Will narrowed his gaze, "That's easy for you to say," he muttered, stretching a little where he lay, testing the strength of the ropes that bound his wrists to the ornately carved legs of the sofa, "you're not the one who's tied up."

Hannibal offered him the soft, understanding smile that he often tried to placate Will with, reaching over for the tea he had sitting on the table next to them. He took a small sip, then offered the cup to Will. They exchanged a wordless look, Will's uncertainty mingling with that look in Hannibal's pale gaze that commanded _trust me_. Trust wasn't exactly one of Will's talents; then again neither was giving up control to someone else. But he'd consented to this completely insane plan the doctor presented to him and... well, may as well go in for the whole hog. He finally nodded, straining to sit up a bit, but Hannibal reached out and gently cradled the back of his head to hold him, bringing the cup to his lips so that he could drink.

He put the cup aside, but kept his fingers in Will's loose, saintly curls, just long enough to stick a pale blue cushion under his head. "There," he leaned back in his chair, "more comfortable now?"

"I'm not sure you want me to answer that," he replied dryly.

Hannibal tipped his head in reprimand. "Of course I do," he chided softly, "it's imperative that you keep the lines of communication open during this."

The truth was that he wasn't entirely _un_ comfortable, it was just an awkward position to find himself in. Aside from being tied up, he'd also been liberated of his clothing, all of which now sat neatly folded on the doctor's desk. He didn't have an issue with nudity, at least not his own, and it was warm enough in the office to make him feel a little drowsy. But it was more the _idea_ of it. He was naked, sickly pale, and already disheveled like a half-panicked deer in headlights while Hannibal looked as polished as ever. He'd lost his jacket and loosened his tie, but there still wasn't a stitch out of place. While Will looked perpetually like he'd just rolled out of bed, Hannibal was the most artfully immaculate man he'd ever seen. And that probably wasn't the line of thought he needed to start down at a moment like this.

But at least Hannibal had the decency to hold eye-contact somewhere around the middle of his sternum.

Will managed to shrug up one shoulder noncommittally. "I'll live," he offered.

For some reason that brought a smile to the older man's face, and he nodded, turning in his chair to lean against the elegant scroll arm. "That will have to do. If you want me to stop, for any reason..."

"I know," Will nodded.

He reached out, drawing his hand in towards Will's bare chest - slowly, cautiously - the same way Will might approach a new stray. His fingertips had only barely grazed skin when Will sucked in a harsh breath through his teeth and Hannibal pulled his hand back, looking up at Will with a cautious stare.

"Is this legal?"

Hannibal smirked, "Have you paid me?"

That wasn't the absolute answer he was looking for, but he didn't expect he would get a better answer than that from the doctor. He was sure there were loopholes on top of loopholes that a man as intelligent as Lecter could worm his way through, should it come down to that, but he was also discrete and had never so much as mentioned keeping any of Will's myriad issues on file anywhere that his employers could find them. He had little reason to worry, he knew, but Hannibal had told him to concentrate on the things he could control and, somehow, that seemed like one of them.

He sighed heavily and forced his body to relax, letting his eyes fall closed and willing the warmth of the room to wash over him. Hannibal waited for him to settle in and brought his hand forward again, settling just his fingertips on Will's shoulder, then his full palm across his collar. Slowly he drew his hand down over Will's chest, pausing long enough to feel his rapid heartbeat and then trailed to the side to trace the shape of ribs straining through pale skin. Will drew in another shaky breath, and Hannibal lingered there to feel his ribs expand and shift with his lungs, a soft smile playing on his lips.

The more he touched, the easier Will found it to let his mind wander elsewhere, instead of concentrating on how he was holding his body or even how it was responding. Though his eyes were closed, he could still feel Hannibal's gaze lingering on his face, watching the subtle shifts in his expression as his hand moved and his fingertips searched out every inch of flesh exposed to him... with some exception. Even when his hands smoothed down Will's thighs, slipping around to seek out the flesh behind his knee, he never ventured further inward than was decent. Will could feel himself stir at the whisper of contact, and despite the rush of self-loathing that came from being visibly aroused in front of Hannibal, it wasn't enough to make him call a halt to this.

There might be something to that, but Will was in no position for deep self-analysis.

Hannibal's hands continued lower, moving over each of his feet in turn, and Will curled and arched his toes in response, which brought a soft laugh from the man above him. Will forced his eyes open for that, the sly smile on Hannibal's face as his fingertips tickled their way up to Will's instep, over his ankle, then around to the tendon before sliding up the back of his leg.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" he breathed.

Hannibal's gaze traveled up the inside of Will's thigh before flicking to meet his gaze, "It seems that you are."

He was trying to ignore that particular fact, but now that Hannibal had pointed it out, a warm blush seeped across Will's cheeks and down his neck. "Can't help it," he muttered.

"You haven't asked me to stop," Hannibal furrowed his brows.

The game suddenly became clear to him and he locked his gaze on Hannibal as the realization flashed in his eyes. It took a moment for him to make himself say the words, even though they lingered, baited, on the tip of his tongue. "I don't want you to."

Graciously, Hannibal didn't smile at that, but the corners of his eyes crinkled ever so slightly and Will caught the barest twitch of his mouth. "Do you want me to touch you, Will?" he asked.

He swallowed down the lump in his throat and nodded, "Yes."

And he knew that if he'd answered otherwise, Hannibal's hands would continue to touch him in only the most detached way. But as soon as he spoke that word, something shifted, and Hannibal's movements seemed almost, for lack of a better word, _adoring_. Will had to wonder if he'd been holding that back the entire time or it this was some new inflection put on for his benefit alone. Either way, it felt almost a relief when Hannibal's hand wrapped around him. He groaned softly and his eyes fell closed again.

Hannibal's movements didn't get any faster or more intense as he went on, though sometimes he drew his hands away to tease his fingertips along warm flesh, gathering precum on the pad of his thumb to slide wet circles around the head of Will's cock. Sometimes Will's breath hitched and caught, but most of the time he lay there feeling nearly boneless on the sofa. The buildup was so slow that he barely noticed the increasing tension until it twisted low in his gut and dragged an abrupt, ragged moan out of him. Hannibal's hand pulled away then and Will had to stop himself from groaning again, his hands twisting in the ropes that bound them.

"Why'd you stop?" he breathed, biting back the edge of a whimper that threatened to form around his words.

"Do you want me to continue?"

He could hear the amusement in Hannibal's voice, he was _enjoying_ this torment. That shouldn't have come as a surprise to Will, but it did. This time, however, it wasn't so difficult to force out a "Yes".

But Hannibal only lingered at the edge of his skin. "Are you certain?"

Will let out another groan, stretching the ropes again. " _Yes_. Please, god yes..." he said, turning his head to look plaintively at the older man.

Hannibal drew his hand back up the inside of Will's thigh and wrapped snug around him again, this time moving with slightly more earnest strokes, each pitching Will closer towards the inevitable. He wasn't even thinking about the fact that this was Hannibal touching him, or that he was tied up, or that somehow, in the last however many minutes he'd been laying there, he'd apparently _completely lost his mind_. He was only thinking about how good it felt to have someone else touching him. That Hannibal's hands seemed to know exactly the right way to move around him wasn't lost on him either.

He gritted his teeth, breath coming in fits the closer he got. But Hannibal's pace never changed, never staggered. Part of him seemed almost mechanical in his movements, while the rest was all dripping with intent and determination. In order to be determined about something one had to have some sort of investment in the outcome of it; though Will barely had the presence of mind to consider it, he could recognize that Hannibal must have some investment in the direction this was going.

There was nothing forcing him to hold back, except for Hannibal's unrelenting consistency, and maybe some petty revenge had him letting loose without warning, but if Hannibal wanted to extend this so long, he wasn't giving him a chance to prolong it anymore. He tried to keep his hips from shuddering against the sofa or his hands from straining too tight at his bonds, only because he'd slipped into some comfortable, almost sleepy, state while he laid there and he didn't want to get jarred out of it too quickly. Hannibal seemed to care little either way; he waited for Will to come down again and reached into his pocket for a cloth handkerchief, wiping his hand clean and then giving Will's stomach the same treatment.

He didn't speak as he stood and loosened the rope around Will's wrists, striding across the room to his desk to dispose of the handkerchief and return with Will's clothing. By the time he got there, Will had pushed himself up to sit again and was rubbing the soreness out of his wrists. Hannibal sat back down in his chair and placed the neat pile next to Will on the sofa, neatly crossing his legs and folding his hands over his lap as if they were still in session. Will stared at him with something akin to confusion, but shook his head and reached for his boxers.

"So that's it?" he asked.

Hannibal canted his head slightly in his direction. "Was there something more you had in mind?"


End file.
